‘Go ahead, Humberidge,’ Kate said, leaning towards the conference phone in the supe’s office. ‘You’re on with the supe, Patel and Laura. How’s the search going?’

Humberidge’s voice crackled through the speaker. ‘We’ve bagged up his computer, but no sign of a tablet device or mobile phone yet.’

Kate muted the receiver so she could fill in the supe. ‘Jackson didn’t have a phone in his possession when we picked him up, and has yet to confirm where it is. From what we’ve managed to ascertain he uses the same phone for business as personal use.’

‘I’ve taken a picture of the pages in his address book and have emailed it over,’ Humberidge continued. ‘There’s only a couple of dozen entries, but might be worth checking those nearby.’

‘Patel will take a look at those when we’re through here,’ Kate said, catching eyes with Patel. ‘Anything else of interest we can use in the interview?’

‘Only been inside for half an hour, ma’am, but will keep you posted. The only other find of any significance is a box containing four unopened packets of photocopy paper. It’s the same brand of box and paper as was used to deliver the victim’s hearts.’

Kate clenched her fist in satisfaction. SSD had already confirmed that the brand used was generally stocked for both commercial and educational facilities to purchase. It wasn’t a smoking gun, but at the very least an uncanny coincidence. If only SSD had managed to locate a fingerprint on either of the boxes Jackson had covered in the wrapping paper, they might be a step closer to charging him.

‘I want you to check and see if he has any of the wrapping paper he used left. Check every room and all bins inside and outside, even for a scrap of it. Also, check for any glues or adhesives, so we can compare to what was used to attach the paper.’

‘Will do, ma’am.’

‘What’s the garden like? Anything unusual?’

‘There’s no garden at the front of the property, just a concrete driveway. The back is like a forest: overgrown and not cared for. No recently disturbed patches of soil as far as I can see, but I’ve got Vicky out there doing a closer sweep as we speak.’

‘Any sign that he might have burned the remains of the bodies? Ash, maybe, or charred patches on the concrete?’

‘Will have to let you know. I’ve got three constables trying to make contact with the immediate neighbours to see if anyone noticed any suspicious behaviour in the last couple of weeks, but I’ll keep you posted.’

‘Thanks, call me back as soon as you have anything else so I can coordinate with the rest of the team.’ Kate disconnected the line and straightened up.

The supe removed his glasses and chewed at one of the arms. ‘And presently there is no forensic evidence linking him to either victim?’

‘No, not unless we find something in his home or where he’s disposed of the rest of the bodies,’ Kate confirmed. ‘I have officers and dogs still at Mottisfont combing the grounds, but it’s such a large estate to cover that it could take days to find anything. But I’m not even convinced that’s why he was there this morning. On the security feed he is seen entering with the satchel we apprehended him with, but it only contained a packed lunch when we checked it. Plus, he didn’t have any digging equipment with him, and there was no trace of dirt on his hands or beneath his nails. As tough as it is to admit, I think he was only there to see the sights today.’

The supe paused to consider what she’d said. ‘Well, you need to work as quickly as you can. If the evidence isn’t strong enough by the morning, you know you’ll have to release him.’

‘You’re absolutely right, but I think we need to leave him to a stew a little longer. We need to buy Humberidge and the team as much time as possible to thoroughly examine his home. If we disclose the circumstantial evidence we have at present, his solicitor will be laughing.’

‘I think he wants to speak,’ Patel countered. ‘If we could just get him away from his solicitor, I’m sure he’d come clean.’

Kate agreed. ‘But his solicitor will have been working to reel him back in since his last outburst.’ She paused and tried to focus on finding the solution. ‘Right, you two go back to the incident room and see what else you can dig up about his background. I want to know what school he went to, whether his parents are still alive, who he knew at college, I mean, anything that tells us more about him as a person so we can better focus our search for his victims.’

‘I think Quinlan is still in the incident room trying to identify the people in Jackson’s social media photos,’ Laura offered. ‘I’ll see if he can fill in any of the other blanks.’

‘Good. I’m going to go and visit Imelda Watkins, the owner of number forty-eight Abbotts Way. I want to know why he used her property to do what he did. Maybe she can shed some light on what drove him to kill Petr and Maria.’

---

Imelda Watkins’ four-bedroom detached property was in a sprawling cul-de-sac, in the large village of North Baddesley, situated halfway between the Lordshill and Romsey suburbs. The front of the property was protected by a small brick wall enclosure and a large wooden farm gate, beyond which Kate spotted a Mercedes, sparkling despite the recent run of bad weather. Parking up directly outside the gate, Kate followed the small pathway that ran down the side of the wall, where a smaller wooden gate led past the bay window to the front door.

Kate casually glanced through the window as she proceeded, but the blinds were partly closed and obscured most of the view. Kate hadn’t called ahead to check whether Mrs Watkins would be home, so was relieved to hear her approaching the door when Kate had clattered the letterbox.

‘Detective Matthews, this is a surprise. Please, come in.’

Kate followed Imelda out to a conservatory at the rear of the property, politely declining the offer of a drink. The room looked out onto a long lawn, bordered by several conifer trees at its end, which caused a dark shadow to spread over the grass, which still had patches of white from the previous evening’s snow. Inside the conservatory, the walls were adorned with pictures of Mrs Watkins and a man.

‘Is that you and your husband?’ Kate asked, nodding at one of a younger Imelda standing beside a blue beach hut with a tall man, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt.

Imelda looked up at the image, and a sorrowful smile graced her face. ‘That’s my Graham, yes. I’m sure that’s where Neil gets his passion for the ocean from. Graham was in the navy when I met him, before resigning his commission when I fell pregnant, and taking a job at the local hospital.’

Kate watched as Imelda continued to stare at the image, the memories of that time playing silently behind her eyes. ‘I’m here about the discovery we made at your Abbotts Way property last night,’ Kate continued. ‘I believe one of my team has been in touch?’

Imelda’s focus returned to Kate. ‘Good heavens, no. What kind of discovery?’

Kate perched on the wicker chair next to Imelda. ‘You haven’t spoken to anyone from my team today?’

‘No, I’ve only been home for about ten minutes. Neil and I went and laid flowers at my late husband’s graveside. What’s going on? Oh God, tell me someone hasn’t vandalised it as well? It took me hours to get the paint from Neil’s brickwork.’

‘Not exactly. One of the rooms upstairs, Mrs Watkins, we are treating as a murder scene.’

Imelda gasped, and covered her mouth with her hand. ‘Murder?’

Kate tried to read Imelda’s face, but could trace no sign of deceit. This news really was a shock to her. ‘When were you last at the property, Mrs Watkins?’

Imelda puffed out her cheeks. ‘I-I-I don’t know. I can’t remember.’

‘It’s been some time, then?’

‘Well, yes. It’s been vacant for nearly a year. It’s on the market, and I really can’t remember when I last called in there. Supporting the school takes up much of my time and I… goodness me. Would you mind fetching me a glass of water?’

Kate stood and made her way back to the kitchen, locating a glass on the draining board and filling it at the sink, before returning to the conservatory. ‘Here you go.’

Imelda accepted the glass and sipped from it slowly.

‘Can you confirm who has access to the property, Mrs Watkins?’

‘Um, let me see. Well, I have a set of keys, of course, and the estate agent has a set so they can show prospective clients around, but I don’t think there have been any interested parties in several months.’

‘Anybody else? What about your son, Neil?’

‘No, he doesn’t have a set of keys. He mows the lawn there sometimes, but I don’t think he’s been over there since before Christmas. I can call him and ask if you like?’

‘Is he not here now?’

‘No, he dropped me home and then said he wanted to go for a drive. I don’t imagine he’ll be much longer.’

‘You were renting the property out last year, weren’t you?’

‘That’s right. To a man I met at St Bartholomew’s, as it goes.’

‘Chris Jackson?’

‘That’s right. Do you know him?’

‘What can you tell me about him?’

Imelda lowered the glass of water to a small table adjacent to the wicker chair, considering her answer. ‘He paid his rent on time.’

‘Is that it? There’s nothing else you can tell me?’

‘Apologies, detective, but I was raised not to gossip behind other’s backs. What is it you want to know?’

Kate had to be careful not to inadvertently lead Imelda as a witness. ‘He was renting the property for a year according to council tax records. Why did the tenancy agreement end? Was it his choice or yours?’

‘Mine.’

Kate remained silent, waiting for Imelda to elaborate. She eventually sighed. ‘After my husband passed, things became difficult… financially, I mean. That was why I first agreed to Chris leasing the property. It was such a big place, and not in a good state of repair, so I didn’t charge him top whack. I thought it would be good having someone capable with their hands on site. With all the best will in the world, Neil isn’t good at that kind of thing. He can’t jump unless I tell him, and I didn’t want to spend money on a third party to maintain the place, so Chris just came along at the right time.’

Kate thought back to the threadbare carpets in number forty-eight, and wondered exactly what kind of maintenance Jackson had done. ‘So why end the agreement? There’s something you’re not telling me, and I need you to be open.’

‘The house was becoming more of a burden, and I decided to put it on the market. I offered Chris the chance to buy it, but he said he wouldn’t be able to secure a mortgage and so he moved out.’

‘But he still works at the school?’

‘He’s self-employed, but I think the school calls on him when required. I really don’t get involved in that side of school affairs.’

‘So you expect me to believe that your landlord-tenant relationship ended amicably?’

Imelda reached for her water again, studying Kate’s face. ‘Why would you assume otherwise?’ Her eyes widened. ‘Wait, you think Chris has something to do with what you’ve found at the house? You think he’s murdered somebody?’

‘I can’t go into detail, Mrs Watkins, but we have reason to believe that the crime scene at your house is linked to what was discovered on Friday night at the school.’

Mrs Watkins’ hand shot to her mouth again. ‘You think… Chris? Oh my.’

‘Let me ask you again: why did you not extend his lease?’

Imelda suddenly stood and moved to the window, staring into the garden. ‘It will probably sound prudish… but he was into things.’

‘What sort of things?’

‘I don’t understand the correct vernacular, but… whips and chains and that sort of paraphernalia.’

‘Bondage? Sadomasochism?’

Imelda nodded, still stood by the glass. ‘I called round to the house one day, and walked in on… suffice to say it was embarrassing for all concerned. I hadn’t realised that… it came as quite a shock, I can tell you.’

Sadomasochism wasn’t a crime, nor was it an indicator of psychopathy. ‘Can you be more specific, Mrs Watkins. I’m sorry to ask. Was he tied up? Was he alone?’

‘There was a girl there; I didn’t know who she was… but she was tied up… to a chair… she was naked, and her wrists and ankles were tied to the chair with some kind of rope. There was a gag around her mouth as well. When I first saw it, I didn’t know what I’d stumbled into, but he explained, and when he untied the girl, she verified that she had chosen to be tied up. Not the sort of thing that happened in my day, let me tell you.’

‘How long ago was this, Mrs Watkins?’

She turned back and looked at Kate, her face white as a sheet. ‘Just before Christmas the year before last. I was already considering putting the house on the market, and that was the final straw. It’s none of my business what people practise in private, but I couldn’t forget the look of terror in the girl’s eyes when I walked in on them.’

Kate helped Imelda back to the wicker chair. ‘What were things like between the two of you afterwards?’

‘I didn’t really see him much after that. He’s been at the school on a couple of occasions as I’ve been passing through, but I don’t think we’ve spoken.’

‘Would you say there’s animosity?’

‘He certainly hasn’t gone out of his way to say hello, and I’ve been too embarrassed.’

‘There was no sign of forced entry at number forty-eight. Is it possible that Jackson still has a key?’

‘I wouldn’t have said so, but now that you say what’s gone on in there, I suppose he could. I never changed the locks when he moved out, so maybe it’s possible he had a spare key cut before moving out. I really can’t say for sure.’

‘We believe the victim was a man named Petr Nowakowski. Does that name ring a bell with you?’

Imelda reached for the water again. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Did you ever see Jackson with any male friends at the house?’

‘No, the only person I ever saw him with was that girl.’

Was it possible that the girl Imelda had stumbled in on was Maria Alexandrou? Had Jackson paid her to indulge his sexual fantasies? It still didn’t explain how or why he’d chosen to mutilate her at the school. But if he knew number forty-eight was vacant and still had access, he wouldn’t have expected to be disturbed… until Daisy.

‘Would you be willing to make a formal statement about what you saw?’ Kate pressed.

‘If you think that would help?’

Kate stood. ‘Would you like me to call anyone to be with you?’

‘My Neil will be back soon.’ She paused. ‘When will I be able to see the house?’

Kate’s heart went out to her. The mess could be cleaned: walls could be painted and carpets replaced, but it would forever be remembered as the house where Petr Nowakowski was carved up. Over time the names of the victim and perpetrator would be forgotten, but the act was now embedded in folklore. Mrs Watkins would be lucky to receive half the value of the property after this.

‘We’ll keep you informed. I’ll send one of my team around to take that statement from you.’

Kate thanked Imelda, leaving her in the conservatory, and showed herself to the door, keen to get back to the station and secure Jackson’s confession and find out where he was holding Daisy.